


When Trepidation Comes

by tigereyes45



Series: Surviving the Commonwealth with Wren [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Minutemen Route, Preston is just trying to be Danse's friend, destruction of the prydwen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 13:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21458626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigereyes45/pseuds/tigereyes45
Summary: Danse hasn't received news from anyone in weeks. Weeks without a word from anybody within the Brotherhood, or the General. It doesn't sit right with him, and Preston can tell the former Paladin is on edge.
Relationships: Paladin Danse & Preston Garvey
Series: Surviving the Commonwealth with Wren [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1358689
Kudos: 3





	When Trepidation Comes

Danse sits quietly as the ghouls of Sanctuary gather side by side the people for their dinner. They would all move into one of the repaired houses for the meal. Winter was arriving and the sun was setting sooner. Their habits were transitioning to fit the seasons. It’s safer inside. Soon the monsters would start encroaching on them. Would the general start to stay when that happens.

It had been three weeks since Wren dumped him here. Three weeks of watching these people, learning their schedules, them trying to figure him out. Three weeks with no news. His leg begins to twitch from the thought. The brotherhood had abandoned him. Wren has left him there. Surrounded by ghouls, synths, and humans who treated them like they were there own. Humans who treated  _ him _ like he was one of their own.

“You hungry?”

Preston stood so tall about him, despite the fact that Danse usually towered him. He knows it’s because he’s sitting in a chair, not because he was without his suit. Still, his skin feels so bare without it. As if he was nothing more then a child standing out in the open. The perfect, easy target for anyone who wants to kill him. Preston had to be one of those people. After everything the brotherhood had said about the minutemen, after all those times Danse had mocked him. Bloodlust would be understandable. If the positions were reversed that would be all Danse would feel. Nothing would make him stand there with a bowl of warm food.

“Well?”

“I’m a synth. I don’t need to eat.”

“That’s true, but you ate food for so long. Aren’t you worried you might feel some phantom pain of hunger if you don’t?”

“No.” Pain was the least he deserved. Pain would be his life now.

“Danse I’m trying to help here.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“We all need help.” The way Preston sighs makes an ounce of guilt blossom in his chest. It wasn’t enough to change his mind. Nothing would be enough. He was a synth he didn’t need help.

“Listen, I convinced the general to send you here. I thought maybe it would help you out to be in a place where everyone lives and works together, but it can’t help if you don’t give us a chance.” Preston sits the bowl by Danse’s feet. At first, the former Brotherhood knight thought maybe the man had given up. That he was finally tired of dealing with him. Genuinely he was surprised it had taken that long.

As he risks a glance up, he sees that Preston had just stepped away to drag a chair over. He tucks the small chunk of greenish-blue and yellow plastic next to Danse. The minuteman sits uncomfortably. It looks as if Preston had never been in a chair before, but the look on his face was as if he had just gone to sit on a cloud.

"Preston."

"Hm?"

"What do you know of Wren and the Brotherhood?"

Preston looks away. His eyes take in everything but Danse's face. As if he couldn't risk talking about the brotherhood and looking him in the eyes at the same time. It shouldn’t be surprising. He was an abomination after all. A weapon created to spy and betray all he wanted to protect.

“I never liked visiting the Brotherhood headquarters with her.”

“What do you mean?”

Preston shifts in his seat. His fingers tighten around his knees. Now his eyes look up towards the sky. He stares for a long time. The expression on his face was so intense that it could have signaled the Prydwen had the blimp flown overhead that moment.

“It’s like, as soon as her foot would touch the Prydwen she would change. Her entire demeanor and way of speaking were different.”

“It’s not uncommon for a soldier’s behavior to change when on the main base of operations from when they are in the field.”

Preston leans back as his eyes fall to the ground right by his feet. He looked like a skittish child just waiting for a chance to run. Danse was giving him the chance, but Preston either didn’t realize, or he didn’t want to take it. A loud sound, like an explosion, catches their attention. Looking over his shoulder the synth could see a radiation storm was a few miles off. A dot of the sky a bright green with lightning reaching for it. The bright streaks look like arms stretching out for their salvation.

The storm doesn’t faze Preston. Instead, it seems to push him to keep going. As if it was just the kind of encouragement the Minuteman needed.

“It’s different Danse. She has a habit of shifting her personality to try and get along with people better, but on the Prydwen, with the Brotherhood she didn’t change her personality at all. She just dropped all the niceties. Every step she made she would think about beforehand, and she never agreed to any of the missions given by the other leaders without writing down some of the pros and cons.”

“I-I never saw her do any of that.”

“I have some of the lists. She really didn’t want to give the technical documents to the one man with glasses.” Preston begins to dig through his pockets.

“Proctor Quinlan.”

“Yeah. That’s the man. Here.”

Danse holds the paper carefully in his fingers. It feels rough, and the lines crossing it shows it had been crumpled up for a long time before Preston had folded it so neatly. He doesn’t bother opening it. After all, he had no reason to doubt him. Among everyone in camp, Preston was the most honest. That was something Danse could admit with ease. It takes no pride for him to state what was clear to all eyes.

“She never did that in front of me.”

“After those first three visits, how often did she take you there?”

Danse takes a minute to count. “Six in total. None after the truth came out.”

“Yeah.” Preston leans forward again. His fingers interlace as his elbows dig themselves into his knees. For a moment time passes right before Danse’s eyes. He sees the years go by as Preston ages. In the same position, hold himself the same way, the wrinkles overtake his face as laugh lines outnumber the rest. Children and adults, friends, and allies, they all pass him by. Some saying hi, but most never taking notice of the rapidly aging man. When his head turn the world begins to spin. It takes him a moment to realize Preston was speaking to him again.

“-uo ask?” His words shatter the dream? Simulation? What it was Danse wasn’t entirely sure, but he knows it’ll come to pass. It would just be a taste of everything a synth sees and loses. Was he worried about losing Preston? Losing Wren?

“Danse?”

“Yes?”

“Why do you ask?”

His memory begins to play again in the back of his mind. Little signs he noticed, and wanted to talk about but always forgot to. How her hands would almost always be clinched. The way her steps were heavier whenever she boarded it. Her voice was normal, but there was always an edge there. She listened intently and did what she was told, but anytime it was Maxson speaking to her that edge would grow sharper. It was the slightest change in her voice, the little hints in her words that betrayed her lack of trust in them. Danse never wanted to admit that he saw any of it. She always went through with the mission. They were always done.

The image of how she stopped in the middle of the hall stands out. It was the clearest of all the memories. She stood there in her matching uniform of Nick’s. Her goggles masking her eyes. Still, he knew where they were. Her abrupt stop was mirrored by one from Maxson. The General of the Minutemen and Elder Maxson stared at each other. Maxson held a smile on his face and for that reason alone Danse had been able to convince himself that it was friendly, that little standoff of theirs.

Now looking back he could see the way her hand twitched. Her fingers crawled back for her gun before she snaps him back into her fist. The way her face was meticulously neutral. A shield in a battle he had not recognized then. What else had he missed?

“There was a few times I worried about her mental state.” Danse rubs the back of his neck as he keeps his eyes down. It was true, but not the real reason he asked.

“A few times when I was there with her she would walk to the edge of the walkway. Her favorite place to go and look out at the Commonwealth was what she called it. She would stand at the open gate where a vertibird should have been. For what felt like hours she would stand there and look out. He often thought if she was waiting for something. After the first few times, he warned her about stepping to close to the edge he had given up. She never listened to him. She would walk until half of her feet only had open-air beneath them. As if she was tempting fate itself.”

A thunderous explosion even louder than the storm, makes both men jump up from their seats. The sound echoes in his ears as Danse sees a giant cloud of fire and smoke erupt in the sky. The people of Sanctuary cry out. Some of fear, others of shock, Strong out of joy. Danse out of anguish as he realizes what was happening. What the only thing in that direction was large enough to create such an explosion that it could be seen by them.

“No! No, it wasn’t supposed to happen yet. We were supposed to wait.”

Danse turns to have his eyes met by Preston. Anguish with such a pitying, apologetic face. Preston knew, just like he did. That sign, that fire, The Prydwen was gone. Maybe the brotherhood with it, or maybe not. He hopes his old allies had managed to escape. That Rhys and Haylen weren’t there.

“You knew?”

“Danse I wanted, we were,” Preston tries to look away, to have his vision eclipsed by the still-burning remains of the brotherhood’s treasure covered by the dark grey smoke like a cloak.

The synth grabs Preston by the front of his coat. He forces the man to look him in the eyes. To tell him point-blank that everything he had spent his whole life fighting for was gone. That he was the last, just as Preston had once been.

“We were going to talk to you. To explain it, but I guess,” He grabs at Danse’s wrists. “I guess she decided it was best to just get it done with.”

“You knew!” With his rage burning hotter then the sky was right now Danse throws Preston across several of Sanctuary’s yards.

Before Danse could get at Preston again, Codsworth blocks his path. Danse smacks at the butler but one of his limbs catches his hand. He flings his hand around trying to throw him off. The floating robot refuses to let go.

“Paladin Danse I must insist that you control yourself!”

“You waited until they had their guards down! Until I had my guard down! You were always planning on killing them, weren’t you?”

“Danse I know you’re upset but it’s not Garvey’s fault.” Piper insists as she helps him up.

“What the Hell is your problem?” Cait demands as she rushes Danse from the building where they had all taken their meals. Her rifle was aimed right at his chest.

“They planned this!”

“Yeah, we all did!” Cait argues as she stops and gets ready to press the button.

“You all? All of you?” He could feel his body shaking. His rage overtaking all of his body. “Why?”

“You lot were just as dangerous as the Insititute. You wanted to kill everyone and thing to keep it all under your control.”

“The institute is evil, but how evil could the brotherhood get?” Piper asks as she lets go of Preston.

Preston stands on his own with most of his weight on his right foot. When he tries to walk there’s a limp there. One that was caused by his hands. His mechanical artificial flesh-covered hands. Preston waves Cait down.

“Wait, Cait it’s alright. He just needs some time to process this. All he’s lost, it would be a lot for anyone. It is a lot for anyone.”

“We just gonna let him get away with throwing you like a sack of mutfruit?”

“We just blew up the only family he had ever known. So yes, we are.” Preston’s eyes never leave him as he speaks. They hold so much they were a mess to look at. A swamp of sincerity, regret, pity, and yet his voice, that tone, it betrays the quiet certainty he wants to hide from Danse. The true belief he holds within that this was absolutely necessary.

Were they all in on it? Cait thought so. Hell, she even said so, but she had a pension for lying. Not nearly as much as Deacon but the man was leagues ahead of everybody else. Well almost everyone else. Wren may just be on par with him. The way she was able to so easily smile at him. To encourage him and offer him salvation after he lost everything else. She convinced him that she was his friend, and then destroyed everything. He, he trusted her more than anyone and look where that had gotten him. For once, Deacon was right, and Danse was never going to let them trick him again.


End file.
